


Fix You

by JustAnotherUnderstudy



Series: Fix You [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Inspired by Music, M | Olivia Mansfield Lives, Older Woman/Younger Man, Post-Break Up, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22966834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherUnderstudy/pseuds/JustAnotherUnderstudy
Summary: Lights will guide you homeAnd ignite your bonesAnd I will try to fix you~~Coldplay
Relationships: (Previous), James Bond/M, James Bond/M | Olivia Mansfield, James Bond/Madeleine Swann
Series: Fix You [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619116
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	Fix You

**Author's Note:**

> This was the story I planned to post for Valentine's Day but didn't have time to work on. There will be another chapter or two, depending on how I end up editing them.
> 
> In case you didn't guess, Coldplay's song was what was going through my mind as I thought up this series. I probably should have searched harder for a song for the last segment since all of these parts were inspired by music...Oh well. :)

Olivia Mansfield stared with unseeing eyes out the window of the cab at the dark, wet London night. Her mind was lost, as it never should be, considering her circumstance. But the holiday had brought on a melancholy which she could not shake.

It was well over a year now since Skyfall, over a year now since all but a few believed her dead. It had been a terribly lonely year. The loneliness shouldn't have bothered her at all. She had never had difficulties with it before. On her worst days at work she imagined herself retired and reading a heavy Tolstoy novel on a beach somewhere.

M had suggested it more than once, leaving London, getting away from memories. But Olivia couldn't bring herself to do it. She made sure to avoid most public places. M had her groceries brought around each week and she ordered anything else she needed online. She got out for a walk daily, but M had a young guard on her. And no one else would be looking for her. Specifically, James Bond would not be looking for her.

He'd received her video, that was apparent from the news, as well as from the glare M gave her when he visited in the aftermath. He said nothing chastening, but her interference in Six business was obviously unappreciated.

"You're still sentimental over him," was his only reference to the event.

Olivia refused to answer. It hurt too much now to deny it. She only held his gaze until she was satisfied by the shake of his head that she'd revealed nothing.

The cab slowed as it approached her secure building and Olivia dragged herself reluctantly from her memories.

'This is what it is to be old,' she told herself. 'Lost in the past because you have no future.'

She paid the driver as the doorman opened the cab door for her to exit.

"Hello, Mrs. Mawdsley," he said.

She gave him a nod and a quiet, 'thank you,' before she crossed the sidewalk and entered the lobby.

It was a grand affair, she'd always thought of the entry. With low ceilings, dark wood paneling, brass fittings, and lush burgundy carpeting, it screamed opulence and life's end to her simultaneously.

She entered the lift and stared at herself in the polished chrome door when it shut out the darkness of the lobby. She could see every wrinkle now, they deepened with each passing day. She swore her cheeks were beginning to droop like a basset hound's.

When the doors slid open at her floor, Olivia stepped out and slowly walked down the hall to her small flat. As she opened her door, she was reminded of the night she'd returned from the funeral service after Silva had blown up her office. She had felt her age that night, and felt so utterly alone. Bond, she'd thought, was dead, and she would have to face her past alone. She wasn't going to give up without a fight, but she knew that was how she would go down, fighting and alone.

There would be no surprise visitor tonight. James had no idea she was alive so had no reason to find her and break into her flat. It was for the best.

James had ended things without even a word, just an angry look and accusations of her mistrust of him. She'd known before the drive to Skyfall that it would never be mended. She had crossed that line she'd always suspected she would and he had turned away, and to other women.

Wearily, Olivia set her purse on the table by the door, then she shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack. She headed straight to her small liquor cabinet. Once the door to her flat had shut, all she wanted to do was to drown out the thoughts and memories, and liquor had always been the best way to do so.

No, that wasn't entirely true. James had always been the best way to do so, but that was lost to her.

She poured her scotch and took a deep breath before lifting the glass to her mouth. But her cup rested on her lips and Olivia froze as it finally registered that the bottle was not as full as it had been when she'd left earlier in the evening. A clink of glass against the wood of the window frame behind her caused her to whirl around, her eyes wide with fear of what she'd see.

Just as he had that night of the funeral, James Bond was in the shadows and leaned against her dining room window. Before she could get a word out, he spoke.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked.

His voice was a low growl and Olivia could well imagine he might be angry. But that would be the deepest of all hypocrisies and she wouldn't have it.

"Enjoying death," she replied and tilted her head in challenge to him.

James stepped out of the shadows and she could see his eyes were bloodshot. He looked almost as terrible as he had that night, except he'd shaved. Thank god for that. Olivia could never stand a trace of a beard on his face.

There was also no anger in his eyes or his mannerisms. He took slow, halting steps toward her, around the small square table. In his eyes she saw a million questions.

He stopped in front of where she'd apparently frozen to the ground at the drinks cart. He looked her up and down shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Then he shut his eyes and his lips moved as he counted. When he got to ten, he opened them again. He took a shaky breath and reached for her. His hand skimmed past her face to touch her earring.

Olivia closed her eyes. Of course, he would recognize them. They were the ones he'd given her on their first Christmas they'd spent together, an acknowledgement of the words he could not speak, but she'd known for a long time what he wanted to say.

She felt James' arms go around her and he pulled her into an embrace.

The scene in the chapel at Skyfall was immediately recalled in her mind. She'd felt the press of his lips to her forehead then heard him weeping quietly over her as she slipped away into what even she had been certain was death. She had hoped her final words would have brought him some comfort.

"James," she said softly and pulled away.

In his eyes she saw the same anguish she'd seen as he held her in the chapel. But there was something more there, something that scared her. She saw need. Not the sexual kind she'd seen when they'd been together before, but the kind that told her she had become more to him than she wanted to be to any man.

"I know I deserved it," he said. "I'm not angry."

"Well, that's obvious," she said, allowing some of her confusion and repulsion to slip into her words.

James bowed his head and rested it against her forehead.

"What I did to you was cruel," he said.

Then Olivia understood. This was about Turkey. He thought she had punished him for faking his death by faking her own.

"James, it was not punishment," she explained.

He looked sharply at her.

"It fucking feels like it," he said with a bitter laugh.

She pulled out of his arms and finally drank down her scotch.

"Why are you here?" she demanded as she set her glass down hard on the table top.

He stared at her a moment before answering.

"I got your video," he said.

She looked at him, trying to understand what he was saying.

"I did what you asked," he continued.

She nodded her head slowly, still unsure what he was getting at.

"But I didn't kill Blofeld," he said.

Olivia shook her head.

"Blofeld?"

"The leader of Spectre," James said. "I didn't kill him."

Olivia was thoroughly confused now. Of all the visions of this meeting she'd ever had, well, this was not how she expected the conversation to go.

"Alright," she said.

"He knew about us, and I knew you'd want me to," he sighed. "But I couldn't."

"Wait, he knew?"

Olivia felt her pulse begin to beat a little faster. No one knew, they'd been incredibly cautious.

James nodded but he didn't continue. Olivia felt frustrated by his behavior. She'd rather he was angry and threatening than this. This was not James, this was someone else inside James' body and she didn't know what to do with him.

"Why didn't you kill him," she asked, not knowing what else to say. "If you knew I'd want it, why didn't you?"

James looked at his feet like a chastened child and Olivia wanted to scream. When he looked back up at her he made an attempt at professionalism.

"I ran out of bullets," he said.

Olivia stared at him and considered her options. Perhaps she should call M. There was obviously something terribly wrong with James and she wasn't sure if she would be able to deal with it.

"How long have you been sober," she asked, grasping at straws that might explain it all to her.

"About a day," he replied.

"How long were you drunk before that?" she continued her questioning.

"For a few months," he said.

He didn't break eye contact this time but Olivia still had no idea what his behavior meant.

"So you've been drunk on the job," she commented. "Hardly appropriate for a double-0. I'd hoped M would keep you in check."

Something she said seemed to upset him, and she suspected it was using her former title on someone else. He'd always been sensitive about that.

"I'm not a double-0," he said.

Olivia nodded.

"Well, you were rather close to retirement age," she said. "I don't suspect M has you at a desk, are you training recruits?"

"I left Six," he said.

"You what?" she gasped and gave him an angry look.

That had not been her plan at all. He was supposed to stay there, supposed to carry on. A man like Bond could not be idle. No wonder he'd been drinking.

"What the hell did you do that for?" she barked.

James only sighed deeply and shook his head.

"I ran out of bullets," he said.

Olivia stared at him, open mouthed, for several heartbeats before all the pieces fell into place in her mind.

Then she squared her shoulders and jerked her head sharply toward the table.

"Well, sit down whoever you are," she said.

James sat at the table without comment. Olivia took the seat directly across from him and was not surprised when she saw him relax slightly.

She had never debriefed him after he'd brought Silva in. There hadn't been time. And then, of course, she was gone. Long before their sexual relationship began she'd known James did better post-mission if she debriefed him personally. The debacle after Montenegro taught her that lesson.

James placed his hands flat atop the table and, proving her suspicions correct, began to tell her everything from the time he left her in her office in the underground bunker nearly two years earlier.

* * *

_When you try your best but you don't succeed_   
_When you get what you want but not what you need_   
_When you feel so tired but you can't sleep_   
_Stuck in reverse  
...I will try to fix you._


End file.
